See Zlurb Run
by Jamie August
Summary: The Smoking Man writes a children's story! Oh, dear. Be afraid, be *very* afraid!


Title: See Zlurb Run 

Author: Jamie August 

Disclaimer: Nobody is mine except poor little Zlurb. The rest belong to Chris Carter, 1013, and FOX. I may be one of the few people who actually returned CSM without killing him! 

Summary: The Cigarette-Smoking Man writes a children's story! Be afraid, be _very_ afraid. 

A/N: I'm sorry. I really couldn't help this one. I thought this up while lying in bed one night at 4 am. It seemed funny then.... 

Archiving: Ask me. I've said yes to everyone so far. augustdragon81@netscape.net 

***   
  


**_See Zlurb Run_**

**_***_**   
  


The Cigarette-Smoking Man sat in front of his typewriter, staring at the blank page and, well, smoking a cigarette. He had decided it was time to write another story. After three days of rolling the idea around in his head, he'd come up with the perfect pseudonym: Morley Meuss.   
  


You see, this time around he'd decided to try his hand at a children's book.   
  


So far, it wasn't going as swimmingly as he had hoped. The wastebasket beside the desk was beginning to overflow with all the balled-up pieces of typewriter paper he'd discarded, most after typing only one or two lines. He had ideas, but unfortunately they were blocked by his inability to produce an opening sentence.   
  


He sighed and lit a new cigarette, having smoked its predecessor down to the filter. Tapping ash into the ashtray, he stared at the piece of paper rolled into the typewriter, willing the perfect opening line to reveal itself to him. His intention was to write a story which would lead children to accept the impending alien invasion. Although, truthfully, he wasn't fond of the term 'invasion'. He thought 'inevitable cohabitation' sounded much friendlier. 'Invasion' sounded so, well, _invasive_.   
  


The perfect opening line was apparently out to lunch. No help there. Tucking the cigarette firmly in the corner of his mouth, he leaned over the keys, determined to track down his first sentence no matter what.   
  


_Once upon a time, _he typed, then shook his head and rolled the paper out of the machine. How cliche a line like that was! He crinkled the sheet into a ball and dropped it into the wastebasket, where it promptly bounced off the balled-up sheets of paper already there, creating an avalanche effect that ended with a dozen balls of paper landing on the floor and rolling in a dozen different directions.   
  


He watched this in dismay, then rolled another sheet of paper into the typewriter. After another moment of thought, he typed,   
  


_There once was an alien from Nantucket_   
  


He unceremoniously ripped the paper from the typewriter. Good lord, no! That sounded like something Alex Krycek would write! Besides, this was supposed to be a _children's _story.   
  


After performing the very familiar ritual of rolling fresh paper into the typewriter, he leaned over the keys once again.   
  


_'Twas the day after the invasion_   
  


He paused, wondering if he should change that to _inevitable cohabitation. _Dragging on his cigarette, he finally decided against it. It was too clunky. Knocked the meter off.   
  


_'Twas the day after the invasion_

_And all through the Earth_

_The aliens had landed_

_and were laughing with mirth._   
  


He reread the lines and shook his head. No, he needed something _original_. However, this was less terrible than some of the aborted attempts in the wastebasket. Instead of tossing this one, he opened a desk drawer and carefully laid it inside. Perhaps he'd get back to it one day.   
  


_It was the best of times; it was the worst of times._   
  


No.   
  


_Two species both alike in dignity,_

_In fair DC where we lay our scene,_

_From ancient invasions break to new mutiny,_

_Where alien goo makes human hands unclean._   
  


Hmm. That actually had potential. After a moment, he shook his head. He wasn't sure who might sue him on Shakespeare's behalf, but regardless of legalities, he was no plagiarist. All the same, that sheet also went in the desk drawer.   
  


_Sam I am, I do not like grey aliens and ham!_

_I would not eat them on a boat_   
  


This was getting ridiculous. Waving his hand in front of him to dispel the wafting cigarette smoke, he narrowed his eyes at the fresh sheet of paper.   
  


_See Zlurb._

_See Zlurb run._

_Run, Zlurb, run!_   
  


_See Mulder._

_See Mulder chase._

_Chase, Mulder, chase!_   
  


_See Scully._

_See Scully doubt._

_Doubt, Scully, doubt!_   
  


_See the alien ship._

_See the alien ship abduct._

_Abduct, alien ship, abduct!_   
  


_See the black goo._

_See the black goo infect._

_Infect, black goo, infect!_   
  


Huh. The Smoking Man pulled that one from the typewriter, gave it a once-over, and shoved it in the desk drawer. He was capable of more. With that, he found himself back to:   
  


_Once upon a time_   
  


Yes, it was cliched, but it was also a tried-and-true standby. A staple of children's literature, if you will.   
  


_Once upon a time, there was a little orphaned alien named Zlurb. _   
  


He had no idea if Zlurb was a name the aliens would really use. As far as he'd been able to tell, they didn't even have names. But he had to use _something_. Alien Number One just didn't sound right.   
  


_One day, Zlurb met a man named Mulder._   
  


He paused. Should he change Mulder's name?   
  


_Mulder was a bad man who didn't understand aliens. Of course, after they abducted him and stuck all those little hooks through his cheeks, who can blame him?_   
  


The Smoking Man frowned. Where had _that_ come from? Nevermind. This wasn't turning out the way he'd planned, anyway. With a sigh, he ripped the sheet of paper from the typewriter and balled it up. With the wastebasket overflowing, he glanced around for another place to put the paper. Finally he set it in the ashtray and held the flame of his lighter under it until it caught fire.   
  


He opened the desk drawer and extracted the _See Zlurb run_ paper. Reading it over again, he decided it wasn't bad and rolled it back into the typewriter. Picking up where he'd left off, he typed,   
  


_Zlurb is running._

_Mulder is chasing._

_Scully is doubting._

_Where is the alien ship?_

_Uh-oh! The alien ship has abducted Mulder!_   
  


He smiled. This was going well.   
  
  
  


* * *   
  


The next morning, sitting in the basement office of the X-files, Agent John Doggett checked his email. Upon opening and reading the attachment sent to him by MorleyMan_2001@conspiracy.com, he immediately picked up the phone and called Scully. She checked her email, where she discovered the same message had been sent to her, Doggett, Mulder, Skinner, all three Lone Gunmen, and several addresses Scully couldn't identify.   
  


There was no text in the body of the message, just a downloadable attachment. Scully spoke into the phone, telling Doggett to hold on a moment, then opened the file, not sure what to expect. What she found was this:   
  


_See Zlurb Run_

_by: Morley Meuss_   
  


_See Zlurb._

_See Zlurb run._

_Run, Zlurb, run!_   
  


_See Mulder._

_See Mulder chase._

_Chase, Mulder, chase!_   
  


_See Scully._

_See Scully doubt._

_Doubt, Scully, doubt!_   
  


_See the alien ship._

_See the alien ship abduct._

_Abduct, alien ship, abduct!_   
  


_See the black goo._

_See the black goo infect._

_Infect, black goo, infect!_   
  


_Zlurb is running._

_Mulder is chasing._

_Scully is doubting._

_Where is the alien ship?_

_Uh-oh! The alien ship has abducted Mulder!_   
  


_See Scully._

_See Scully believe._

_Believe, Scully, believe!_   
  


_See Doggett._

_See Doggett search._

_Search, Doggett, search!_   
  


_Who is he searching for?_

_Mulder!_   
  


_See the Lone Gunmen._

_See the Lone Gunmen hack into classified databases._

_Hack, Lone Gunmen, hack!_   
  


_Scully is believing._

_Doggett is searching._

_The Lone Gunmen are hacking._

_Where is Skinner?_

_Uh-oh! He's going crazy from watching the alien ship abduct Mulder!_   
  


_Poor Skinner._

_Poor Mulder._

_What happened to Zlurb?_

_Uh-oh! Agent Doggett shot him!_

_Poor Zlurb._   
  


_See the Smoking Man._

_See the Smoking Man die._

_Die, Smoking Man, die!!!_   
  


_What happened to the Smoking Man?_

_I'm not telling you!_

_Triumph, Smoking Man, triumph!_

_Viva la invasion!_   
  
  
  


When Scully finished reading the email, she frowned and spoke into the phone. "Agent Doggett, do you suppose any of the other recipients have seen this yet?"   
  


"I'm sure we'll hear about it once they have." On his end of the line, Doggett shrugged. "What do you think it means?"   
  


"I'm not sure. It's very . . . disturbing."   
  


"To say the least. Agent Scully?"   
  


"Yes?"   
  


"I thought the Smoking Man was dead."   
  


Scully sighed. "Agent Doggett, if I had a nickel for every time I've heard _that_ . . . ."   
  
  
  


_~~End~~_   
  
  
  



End file.
